Caravan of Neverwind
by Sapientia
Summary: When a caravan of Gypsies just wander into Neverland, Captain Hook surmises that they must have a way OUT. Can Billy Jukes stay loyal to his crew and also protect this lost clan without getting skewered?
1. Ch I The Starlight Road

The Caravan of Neverwind  
  
Of all things that wander in and out of Neverland, be it merchants or lost spirits, the most irritating and probable to wander away from you is your memory. Only strong wills hold memories of life before Neverland, lest they surrender to the blissful ignorance of forgetting all worries and pains related to all that was but will never again be. Like Peter Pan; in all his cocky and conceited mirth, in all his years of being part of Neverland, The Boy Who Never Grew Up sincerely believed himself to be part of the island itself, and that before him, it could never have possibly existed.  
And then, there are those who can't or won't forget. They are grown up enough to know that should they forget themselves, then the only thing making them certain that they really are anything is that they are living, breathing creatures whose only purpose in this ageless life is to battle the small herd of flying children who have mostly willingly succumbed to living solely in the moment.  
Billy Jukes sighed, leaning against his elbows on the port wall of the Jolly Roger as he looked up at the moons. One moon was full and one was waning, and trillions of stars shining brightly. Like a road, Jukes thought distantly. That dense band of stars looks like a wide road to travel on... The eternally thirteen-year-old gypsy sighed again and closed his eyes. How he wished he could be more like Slightly with the Lost Boys. How he wished sometimes he could forget... Forget where he came from, from the traveling home he would never see again. How long had he been in Neverland? How did his family fare, if they still lived at all?  
Jukes jumped only slightly when a soft pair of footsteps came up from behind and stopped beside him, a large callused hand moving down and placing itself on his shoulder gently.  
"Tis not your hour of watch," Mullins' scratchy voice came softly. "What're ye doin' up, lad?" Since he'd boarded the Jolly Roger, Mullins was the closest thing Billy had to a friend and father. But how do you explain homesickness for a people who really have no home?  
"Just... remembering," came Billy's quiet reply. "Sometimes I have to make myself remember all of me, lest I forget them here forever." Mullins said nothing, but gave a soft, paternal rub to the boy's left shoulder. "Mullins? You ever feel like sometimes the real world where we came from was just a dream, and that Neverland is all there is and all we really are?"  
There was a long pause. Billy really wasn't expecting a response, but he had to get it off his chest. But as his eyes closed sadly, he wasn't expecting Mullins to say yes, or the manly yet sympathetic squeeze his shoulder had received.  
Blowing low over the land and sea, a strange, sweet scented wind blew in from the north beneath the starlight road. 


	2. Ch II You meddling kids!

"Move, ya dogs, or I'll lay your bones bare!" Hook must have planned coming out during peak heat of the day intentionally, being that it made him all the more irritable and prone to lashing out verbally or physically at his crew. With the exception of the heat, it was really a lovely day in Neverland, especially with all the odd varieties of fruits being in season. The scents of all the blossoms and ripened fruits hanging beneath the canopy of the trees was beyond alluring, and the moss on the forest floor was still cool from the morning's dew that hadn't been touched by the hot sun yet.  
  
Mason grumbled, grappling a handful of Neverberries roughly. Something about this not being a pirate's job. Gentleman Starkey noticed how half of whatever went into Mason's basket seemed to be half-crushed, or simply picked without care to see if it was ripe or rotten, but then shrugged off the thought, noting that the fruit would be mush by the time they got to eating it. The pirates walked along, picking their mild variety of fruits and vegetables as Smee went over a short list of needed foods. Silently, a tiny brown hand helped itself to the variety of pre-picked fruits from a few hoisted baskets as things like plums and apples were dropped into them. Smee moved over to count the apples in the basket. A large apple dropped in. "One," counted Smee. His eyes followed Mullins' hand as he picked the apples, but not the hand behind him taking them. He dropped in another apple, to which Smee looked in the basket and counted, "One." Smee thought nothing of it as he watched Mullins place another apple in the again empty basket. "One," he said again. Seven apples had vanished before it dawned on Smee that either Mullins' basket was being spooked, or something fishy was going on. "Mullins," Smee said, eyeing the basket carefully. "Hold your basket up like ye are, but Jukes, you go up in the tree and start handin' him apples. Somethin's not right to be sure." With a wordless nod, Jukes climbed the tree, and began to slowly hand fine red apples down. For several apples, nothing happened, until just as Jukes' hand placed the apple in and withdrew, and a second brown hand slipped down to fetch it. Smee did a quick double-take, but then saw only Jukes' brown hand. "Begorrah," Smee muttered. "I must be seein' things." Jukes, however, had noticed the second hand that wasn't his. The owner of that hand suppressed a mischievous giggle. Billy's hand moved down slowly with an apple, released it, and then began to move away as the second hand moved down. It looked like his, but he knew it wasn't. He withdrew, and it withdrew. He lowered his again, and it simultaneously moved down as well. The pair of hands moved up and down. They waved and wiggled fingers at each other. Mullins, who'd been watching the whole thing, eyed the second hand suspiciously. "These woods are cursed, lad! Gimme your hand, I'll help ye down." Billy lowered his hand for Mullins to grab, and so neither saw the second hand flip Mullins the bird before withdrawing. Sitting above the pirates, talking to each other without speaking, sat the two young culprits. The boy sat perched comfortably, his muscular arms wrapped around a tree branch. His hard black eyes watched the pirates like a hawk as they retreated, making sure they headed for the shore and not deeper into the wood. His much younger companion sat there with a cheeky grin on her face as she fingered through the stolen fruit. Yurek looked at the haul and smirked at her. ~ Surely, we needn't take all of that back. Share some with our hosts! ~ The sending came quite clear to Meanne's mind, knowing she would enjoy it as much as he, and that she'd have done it anyway if he'd allowed her to or not. Taking careful aim, Meanne, fetched an apple into the air, hitting Smee square in the shoulders. He looked all about. "It's rainin' apples!" he piped. Captain Hooked turned about, eyeing the trees carefully, certain it was the Lost Boys. Yurek and Meanne held their breath, praying that Hook wouldn't spot them sitting there in the branches. ~Stay here! ~ Yurek ordered as he rose and moved quickly to another tree closer to them. A small spray of acorns showered down on the pirates, who quickly drew their swords. "Odds, bombs, hammer and tongs! Show yourself!" Hook roared, ignoring Mullins' comments of there being evil in the trees today. Evil, thought Yurek. I'll give you a good evil tree-spirit, easy! Meanne smiled in admiration of her older companion – he was always SUCH a good actor! Yurek pulled out some hanging moss and covered his head in it, then grappled a hold of a more bendable branch and began lashing it back and forth at the pirates. He made a moaning sound. "I am PINECLAW! Leeeeaaave my wooooods, and neeeevah return! BOOOOOOOOO!" Yurek continued firing acorns and pinecones at the bunch. There was much yelping and cursing and debating on shooting or not. By now, Meanne couldn't resist the fun, and began to do the same. "YAAAAAH, booogah boogah!" Meanne shrilled as she too swished branches menacingly, knocking Captain Hook's hat off. "And I am Shrillbark!! Run away now, or I'll... or I'll.... I'll do something horrible and nasty to you!!! YEAAAHHHHH!!!!!" Yurek smacked his hand against his forehead. Now the pirates would figure it out that it was a farce for sure! He had to distract them from Meanne. While Cookson and a few others had already made their way out of the woods and safely to the shore, others were not convinced. Hook moved toward the apple tree with the shrill voice slowly; Meanne did not dare to breathe. Her body was arched against the body of the tree, barely hidden by leaves and branches as Hook stood merely feet beneath her, eyeing up the branches as he could. "Or you'll WHAT, Miss Shrillbark?" Meanne's arms held tighter against the trunk and pulled her body as close as possible, watching the captain's gleaming hook poke at various low branches. ~ Don't move! I'm coming! ~ Yurek silently moved between the trees, noting that all remaining pirates watched their captain as he sought out Meanne. And then, Hook grinned. Though the tree was no longer screeching, Hook found what he was looking for: a small set of brown toes. "Since you requested it so, we shall leave," Hook said, saying each word slowly and clearly. He gave his crew gestures to say things along the same lines. He took a few strides and dashed behind another tree to wait as Meanne hastily scooted around to the back of the tree to clamber down and run the other way. Exactly what Hook had been counting on. ~ Meanne!! NO! Don't move!! ~ One foot stepped down silently, then another. And that's when his hook caught the hem of the blue-trimmed petticoat and yanked down very hard. Meanne let out a sharp yelp as her head bumped against a branch roughly before she toppled onto the ground. "Owwwww....." she whimpered as she rubbed against her head, sitting up on her elbow. "What in the world caught..... me...." Her voice trailed off and eyes widened in terror as she was now face to face with a very frightening Captain Hook. "About that torture, Miss Shrillbark?" He grinned maliciously, gently lifting the green moss mat from her black waves. Meanne was in big trouble. His hook moved to her soft, young throat. "And now, "tree spirit," you die." The Captain's gut was promptly met with a hard-heeled foot, knocking his hook off course from her aorta to just behind it. Meanne wasted no time in scrambling away with her covered fruit basket and made a mad dash into the thicket. Hook roared as he straightened. "AFTER HER!" Yurek darted up to cut the pirates off, blocking the way she ran, and threw something in the brushes around him to make it seem like she had run elsewhere. Hook neared himself to Yurek, who glared up to match growls. He was a tall and healthy young man with bare arms and chest, and a collar of intricate beadwork and lions fangs and gold. He backed up a pace and made a coyote-like bark, and ran into the brush, throwing down several smoke balls as he went. After much coughing around and sounds of the bushes moving in all directions, the smoke cleared and there was no trace of the jet-eyed man or the young girl who dared to kick Captain James Hook in the gut. The small troupe made a retreat back to the longboat wordlessly; it now seemed that either Peter Pan had made additions to his little herd, or Hook had someone else on this accursed island to torture him. Billy didn't mention to anyone the two beads he'd found in the dirt before the bushes heading east. 


	3. Ch III Meanne's Responsibilities

A steady hour passed, trails of footprints leading around the sparser parts of the forest in large, irregular circles before Meanne and Yurek opted to retire misleading any followers and dashed up into the safety of the trees. There was an eerie silence between the two before Yurek decided that they were deep enough in the woods that they wouldn't have been followed, and dropped to the forest floor. Meanne walked quietly behind her companion, her head ducked into her shoulders like a frightened cat. He hadn't said anything since their little 'incident,' but she knew she was in for it. Big time.  
They walked into another clearing, this one with a little creek in it; Meanne looked at it with a vague confusion. "We're still a good walk from home, so we'd better get something to drink." Yurek wasn't screaming for some reason; this was what could be defined as the calm before the storm. Tired from all the running and from her little brush with death, Meanne dropped exhaustedly to her knees before the stream and began to drink, and to take a short glance at herself.  
Meanne was just over twelve, and acted every obnoxious year of it. She lifted a hand, and began to quickly pick out the leftover bits of moss, twigs and leaves stranded in her black waves as they cascaded over her shoulders. Her skin, like Yurek's and Billy's alike, was a very soft, warm shade of brown, and nearly flawless except for the nick behind and below her left ear, left by Captain Hook. The cut was less than an inch long, and had long since crusted over with blood. I'll wash this off later, she thought, covering it with her hair. Or Yurek will be even madder that I got hurt! Her deep black eyes shut gently as she took another sip, and then opened them to see the purple glints in them reflecting in the water.  
Meanne was not altogether an alluring girl, but nor was she terribly ugly. She was just at the age where her body was deciding how beautiful she would or would not be. But for now, she was simply Meanne. And there really was no defining Meanne. She simply was.  
"If you're finished," Yurek's low voice came. "We'll continue." His voice was very low, so she knew what was coming as Meanne slowly stood up without looking Yurek in the eyes. His large hand swiftly came down and met the child's cheek with a very loud SMACK! She toppled backward, and was once again laying in the grass, holding her right cheek and looking up her fearsome companion.  
"WHAT was that back there?" Yurek demanded. "Crone's great- granddaughter or NOT, I am clan protector! If I tell you to keep still Kitling, you'd best keep STILL! You deliberately disobeyed me! And what's worse? Not only in your haste to escape could you have led those men back to our camp to slaughter us all, but you nearly got yourself killed in the process!" He crossed his arms tightly, flexing thick muscles.  
"Not that I'd have cared if that clawed man cut you a new mouth to talk with or made you into stew, mind you... but he and his followers would have done it AFTER chasing you back to camp and killing the others! Think of Aunt Krista! Uncle Tobias! Think of the good of the clan sometimes, NOT just yourself, Meanne!" The little girl's purple-black eyes filled to the brim with hot tears. Yurek's words hurt, mostly because he was right as usual. The tears streamed down freely, and Yurek inwardly sighed, regretting being so hard on her. But blast it, that girl had to learn some responsibility, both for her actions and how her actions can effect her family!  
Unlike many children who dredge up tears instantly to gain what they wanted, Meanne's tears were genuine, partly from Yurek's scolding, and also because she hadn't been able to show how afraid she was when Captain Hook scared her witless. Sensing these emotions in the girl, the fearsome desert lion that was Yurek relaxed and kneeled down beside her, wrapping his arms around.  
"I'm... It's just that... I was..." was all Yurek could really decipher out of Meanne's frightened and sad gibberish.  
"I'm sorry too, kid. But..." Yurek pulled the girl off of his chest to look into her eyes. "Whether you realize it or not, or like it or not, you have to start growing up some. Firstly by thinking more about how what you do effects the clan. In a few years, you'll be grown, and Old Crone will be gone. When she's not in this world anymore, it'll be your task to guide us like she does. It won't be any fun, and you'll have a lot of responsibility. But unfortunately, you only have a few years to learn it."  
"But that's not fair," Meanne sniffled. "I don't WANT Crone to die. I don't WANT to have to take care of everyone... it's too big! I want things to stay just like they are right now... Crone guiding us, us helping each other, you protecting us, and me and my cousins always being able to play together!" Yurek sighed deeply, hugging the child. She wasn't a relative, but she was family. And it was his job to defend all family, and above all keep her safe, mostly because she'd walk headfirst into trouble without knowing it. There was a long quiet before the two stood once more and began to head back to camp, where the cooking fires burned with tonight's supper, and the air smelled of sage, myrrh, and rosemary. Back to camp, where it felt safer near the fires and the dogs, and a very old woman to watch over them.  
  
Captain Hook paced around his cabin restlessly. He thought he'd seen mostly everyone on the islands. But those two children were... new. It was hard to place, but there was a certain feral look in their eyes somewhere that Neverland hadn't touched yet. When he bore into the girl's eyes, he saw fear, yes, but also a certain... knowing. And it was the same in the young man's eyes, too. In each, he saw a certain amount of fear, but also a deep confusion. They must have been new to Neverland! For that unnamable look within their beings was something that neither the Lost Boys or even his crewmates had from time to time. He didn't know quite what it was, but he would definitely find out.  
"SMEE!" Hook hollered as the old Irishman promptly appeared in his cabin. "Inform the crew that on the morrow, we return to the island to investigate today's oddities and find out whence our new neighbors come from." Smee stood there a moment, placing things in his mind.  
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Smee said, saluting. "Shall I also be lettin' them know that we'll be goin' ashore in the mornin'?  
"Yes.... Smee... that will do..." Hook growled. But yes, he thought, oh yes, I will find you, little bandit... And we'll have a proper introduction. 


	4. Ch IV Jukes' Sorrows

The Neverland night was quiet, but certainly not still for all. For while Neverland residents all over were sleeping gently, men aboard the Jolly Roger were just now settling in to rest, talk abounds about trying to find the whereabouts of the two kids who'd managed to embarrass them like that. Jests from Peter Pan along those lines were almost expected daily, but these people didn't seem to belong to the Lost Boys at all. As a matter of fact, they didn't even seem to be part of Neverland. Tomorrow's investigation, as Hook explained, would not be to kill or plunder. Simply to find some answers. Because if they came into Neverland and weren't there before, then there must be a way out of Neverland!  
Billy was quite beside himself, though. While he did want to see if there really was a way out of Neverland, he knew that even if they left, things wouldn't have been the same as when they first came in. Time passed in the outside world, even though it didn't in here. And what's more, he genuinely hoped they wouldn't find the two they'd met, because just from the brief instances of seeing each of them, Billy already knew plenty about them. He'd been very quiet for most of the evening, occasionally fingering the two stone beads he'd found.  
He sat down beneath the breast of Long Tom, staring out to the island distantly, his thoughts far too deep for such a lovely night. As Billy closed his eyes, he felt the rough and well-meaning hand of Mullins. "You've been awful quiet boy," he said as he took a seat next to him. "Whatcha thinkin'?"  
Billy sighed deeply. "Those two kids," he replied quietly. "They're like me." He knew better, but he'd honestly hoped that that would be enough of an answer. When no reply came from his companion but an intent stare, he knew that Mullins wanted him to keep talking. "I was a castaway on a desert island when you guys found me. But before that, I belonged somewhere, with a whole bunch of someones. I was part of a roaming caravan of gypsies.  
"Most of us came from Romania and the Slavic area of Europe, but it was always a customary thing to pick up other gypsies, or abandoned children. We were never looking for anything, but always wandering like we were searching for something; all gypsies are like that, no matter where their caravan is from. But in every town we'd stop in, it was always the same. We'd camp outside of town, perform a few days in the town, and either leave willingly or be forced out. And it's always been like that... no one wants a herd of gypsies. Any illnesses were blamed on us, any deaths, and any robberies were automatically our doing.  
"We had just left from Paris, and opted that we wouldn't really stop until we got to Spain; there had been large riots in Paris, and the local judges wanted any gypsies arrested and hanged. We lost two in Paris, my uncle, and my younger cousin, Tanya. We fled the country as quickly as we could, and wouldn't stop to grieve until we'd made it to Spain, where we had other kin." Billy's voice trailed off as the young pirate bit back tears of unshed grief. "None of us had any idea that losing Alex and Tanya were only the first to be mourned."  
Mullins didn't know what to do or say. What could he? Sure, he was a pirate and had always been one and nobody really wanted to be near one, but coming from a people that the world doesn't want? He put both his hands on Billy's shoulders and squeezed them firmly. Billy took a deep breath to continue.  
"We didn't know that there were problems breaking out all over Europe. When we finally got to Spain, we thought we'd be safe, but... we weren't. We found our kin's camp, and it was deserted. The dogs were dead, the goats were gone, and what bodies weren't taken as captive by Church officials had been slaughtered. We stayed the night, burying our kin and mourning ours and theirs, and even the ones that we couldn't find. It was just after we went to sleep that they attacked us, just a few hours before dawn.  
"It was pouring rain, which was why we didn't see or hear them coming. But the Spanish Guard was there, fighting us and shooting anyone that wouldn't surrender quietly. Those of us who could, ran, as fast and far as possible. Behind me I left my mother, her brothers and sisters, my grandparents, my friends, my cousins... Only a handful of us scrambled away to run for our lives, and I don't know what happened to them in the dark of the storm and night. But I ran for several miles, even when I couldn't hear anyone behind me. I found an old piece of driftwood and part of a paddle that washed up from some other ship that probably lost them in that dreadful storm and I took to the mercy of the ocean.  
"I remember being shot at a few times but missed, and that I paddled right into the worse part of the storm. The waves were so rough, and there were several moments I thought I'd drown for sure. I recall seeing a large rock some distance away, but not long after that I blacked out. When I woke up, that rock I saw was a small island, several miles off the coast of Spain. You could walk around the island in less than half an hour. And that's when I realized that I was alone... Some miracle had spared me, I think just to torture me in my knowing that I was probably the only one of my clan who lived. About a day later the Jolly Roger found me..."  
Billy sighed heavily, curling his knees up to his chest, and folded his arms around them to lay his forehead there. Why hadn't he said anything about his family before? Mullins shook his head; he knew why. On the general whole, who would give a damn, really? Or worse yet, who wouldn't find some way to use this wholly saddening information against him somehow? And at least now Mullins knew why Billy didn't want Hook finding that little girl's camp; though Billy couldn't save his own clan, he knew the boy would be damned before he'd let someone take the opportunity to hurt or destroy someone else's. Not if he had any say in the matter.  
Mullins sighed lightly and gave the boy's shoulder a sympathetic pat. "Just don't ye get caught, or Cap'n Hook'll have yer gizzard. Got me?" Billy looked up, slightly surprised, and gave his friend a faint smile.  
"Got it." 


	5. Ch V The Braided Path

Dawn was creeping over Neverland's horizon when Captain Hook's small envoy rowed to the shore in search of the caravan that came apparently from nowhere. Mullins, Smee, Starkey and Mason sat in the small boat, rowing quietly but swiftly, small bundles of supplies and weapons at their feet. Captain Hook had decided that he would today find that caravan and inquire as to how they came upon this wretched island, one way or another. Mullins chewed on his lip softly, keeping his slight uneasiness to himself. He had lied to the captain, saying that Billy was up earlier than the rest of them, fixing something down below. If he found out that Mullins was lying, when Hook found Billy, they'd both get it for sure.

Elsewhere, on the mainland, a small figure trudged very quietly through Neverland's dense forest. His boat tucked away and hidden by foliage, Billy was being very careful not to use any of the main paths and roads the rest of the crew normally used. While he knew he had a head start on them, and that he was using deer paths to find his way, he also knew that Captain Hook would not be terribly far behind. The thought of what Hook might do to get the caravan to tell him how they got to be here chilled his heart, and urged his feet to move about faster.

Where could they be? Billy had been searching for nearly three hours, and still not even a trace of them. Had they found a way out of Neverland? Or did they simply not wish to be found at all? That was understandable, but even though he had forgotten so much of his caravan, he knew that they always left markers of some sort that only a gypsy would recognize. Always something to say that you weren't lost and were almost back to camp. Something like a bead on a flower, or tree leaves or grass woven together; something not terribly obvious, but there if you looked. And then there were the traps. Billy recalled that even if they had only been there a day or two, the leaders would have already had scouts put up one or two traps to put people off their guard. Traps were another way of knowing you were close to home, sometimes. There should always be at least one.

Suddenly, there was no more deer path, and it had led right out to a main road that the pirates and anyone else on the island frequently used. It was a little further in than they normally went, but it was still the main road, worn down and sandy. But up ten feet ahead of him is what caught Billy's attention - it was the sign he was looking for. Up the road was a large oak tree that marked the center of a fork, both roads leading to equally dense-looking forest. Behind the tree was a large, thick field of shrubs and shoulder-high sunflowers. The sign was an arrow, faint, and hurriedly carved, and pointing to the road on the left.

This was both sign and trap. Anyone who knew anything about how the signs worked would know automatically not to take the road the arrow pointed at, and would go right. Or, said persons might figure that the gypsies anticipated intruders knowing not to take the bait, but would also know that going right was to actually do what they wanted, and the intruders would head left, just as the arrow said. They would know that the arrow pointed left to make you want to go right, and would know to go left because that would be avoiding the clever traps. But either road you took, you were playing right into the gypsies' hands, and would fall prey to holes, nets, or even a guarded ambush. Billy stood a moment, huffing in slight aggravation. He knew this game, from long, long ago. He should know the answer to this riddle! And then, like dawn breaking though a window, the answer came to Billy Jukes; take neither road.

Walking around the massive tree and to its south side, Billy carefully inspected the ground and found the true sign he was looking for: three small flowers growing in a braid. He smiled, proud of himself for remembering such a long-forgotten riddle, and carefully trod through the high grasses and sunflowers, watching the path markers very carefully. Every few feet were three tall blades of grass, woven tightly at the base and then separated at the tops to keep it less obvious. He had solved the riddle, and was following the markers that would lead him to the caravan that was brought in by an odd-scented wind that always blew when Peter brought newcomers to Neverland. An odd feeling stirred in his breast, of comfort and joy, almost as though he himself were going home to his own caravan that vanished so long ago.

Hours passed, and the sun steadily climbed up in the azure sky. Captain Hook growled lightly to himself in agitation. He and his crew had been following the main road for some time when they came upon a sign that Billy hadn't seen while on the deer path. Hanging from a low branch on a yew tree was a short strand of green and brown glass beads that blended in with the foliage. Hook had taken this sign as a marker, and cut into the forest on a lesser road, following the occasional hanging bead. The five of them had been following this path diligently for miles upon miles, and seemed to be leading them only deeper into the forest as the road beneath their feet slowly vanished more and more.

"Begorah," muttered Smee to Starkey. "How can they stand to walk so far to get home?"

"I'm beginning to think this path was a decoy," Starkey whispered back. "I don't think it leads to their camp at all. Though I do wonder how any of them got through here to set the beads up in the first place."

As another token was found on the forest floor, Hook lashed out with his sword, tearing small branches and plants out of his way. The road they had been on was no more, and the troupe was standing in a forest with no human-trodden path. Hook pushed on, determined to find another sign that would lead them closer to the encampment. One last token was found, and as Hook hacked through the branches, he roared in frustration. They were back on the main road, and up a few feet could clearly see the path that they had entered on. Captain Hook and his four men had just walked in a complete circle around the whole island of Neverland.

"Odds, bombs, hammer and tongs," Hook bellowed. "From now on, we trust no more signs. Only instinct. Onward! We will find these gypsies and they will tell us how to get off this island, one way or another!" High in the trees, beyond where Hook would think to look, a pair of shining blue eyes looked downward at him, carefully translating Hook's words and carving deeply into his mind. As the pirates marched forward, a lithe and pale teenager quietly leapt down from the trees and walked behind them, his blond curls shining in the sun, and entered the deep forest on the same road that Hook took in the first place and began to make his way home.

The day was half spent when Billy was so close to the camp that the markers had all vanished. They weren't needed anymore. He could hear the chickens, and he could smell the burnt scent of the morning cooking fires. The markers in the field had led Billy back into the forest and almost to the heart of the island, where it became a thorny thicket with a very large clearing in it. He had found them at last. The camp filled the space with their liveliness, a handful of goats grazing off to the side. The caravan was small, much smaller than his had been, the back of the clearing lined with four large vardas and a large tent. Ten large and sturdy gypsy horses and Cobbs were tied off to large, low branches between vardas. To the right, two large dogs were staked, and remained unbarking but alert as Billy approached. Three pits had been dug into the earth for cooking fires, two smaller ones and a very large one closer to the center.

"Thought you'd never get here," came a voice from behind a pair of horses. "Pretty slow walker." The young man chuckled, his bright blue eyes and blond curls making a sharp contrast to Billy's nut-brown skin and black hair and eyes. The boy, only a few years older than Billy, crossed his arms as he leaned against a varda, looking Billy up and down, sizing him up. Hans was clad in an ivory shirt, and a bright red vest strewn with beads, and a pair of blue dungarees. "Come," Hans said at last. "Old Crone wishes to meet with you. She's been expecting you." Billy silently nodded, and followed behind Hans, staring perplexedly at his odd and unique pants. They were certainly nothing he'd seen before, and he'd been all over Europe at one point. Just how much time had gone by since he left that world?


End file.
